


Just Rewards

by Ladycat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Rodney is manly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You," he says, glaring at the trailing arms and the tufty top of Anders' head, "are too stupid to live. I should just drop you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Rewards

"Rodney -- "

"I've got this," Rodney snaps back, because really, for once, he _does_ have this. It's easy, his body just doing things like he's been trained for this, some kind of muscle-bound jock who regularly scrambles down rocky slopes to grab the flailing hand of moronic Dr. Anders who can't figure out that _crumbling rocks_ means _unstable footing_. "Just go and get the 'jumper!"

The muscles of his shoulders and chest are _screaming_ , and he's pretty sure his wrists were going to hate him, but Rodney just digs his feet in a little more securely, gripping harder. "You," he says, glaring at the trailing arms and the tufty top of Anders' head, "are too stupid to live. I should just drop you."

"Uh, that probably wouldn't be such a good idea," Lorne drawled. "There's paperwork."

From the side of the cliff, a frantic moan is followed by a shower of loose rock.

"Stop struggling, idiot, I can't hold on forever, and _you!_ " Whirling only his head isn't quiet as dramatic but it would have to suffice. "Why aren't you getting ropes or a 'jumper or something to haul him back to the surface. Or are you admiring me sweat?"

Sheppard, on Rodney's other side and unable to approach lest _he_ take a short plunge, makes a bizarre choking noise. What the hell is _his_ problem? Jealous that he didn't scramble quick enough?

"Well, it is kinda pretty," Lorne drawls, but there's a note of real admiration underneath it all. Rodney's certain of it, because it's not something he hears all that often from Lorne, who is a dictionary definition of 'unflappable', and when he does he likes to make note of it. So he's making a note, right here, even though the fingers clamped around his wrists are starting to slip and Rodney can feel the ground shiver underneath his boot-soles.

"Hey, whoa."

Rodney's not sure if he actually _moves_ or if it's the expression on his face, but suddenly Lorne and two more marines are carefully picking their way closer, getting anchoring hands on Rodney's shoulders and torso while Anders' flails unattractively and starts to cry.

"Oh, for god's sake," Rodney sneers at him. "Look, the 'jumper is right below you, you're perfect fine. Stop sniveling."

It's all quite simple after that, since Anders has freakishly long, giraffe like legs and the 'jumpers can hover as steadily as the cliff-side isn't. After Anders' is hauled into the 'jumper -- still sniveling, and talking incoherently as he's reluctantly patted and reassured -- Sheppard is suddenly _there_ , materializing beside him to yank Rodney back onto firmer ground and shoo the rest of the marines away.

"We'll take the other 'jumper," Sheppard says, his death-grip on Rodney's shirt out of sight from his men. "Collect the equipment, maybe finish up the survey. It's not safe enough for all of us to be trampling here."

It's not safe for _anyone_ to be walking along shale that crumbles like chalk whenever they step too firmly, but Rodney's suddenly aware just how much it _hurts_ to half-hang over a cliff with a grown man dangling from your hands, and ow, ow, his muscles are _burning._

He rubs at one shoulder delicately, frowning, and only barely listening as Lorne drawls a knowing, "Of course, sir. You just... finish up."

Sheppard beams at him, going so far as to rock on his heels. "Dismissed, Major. C'mon, Rodney, lets get you looked at."

"I think I've dislocated my shoulder," Rodney says, still poking, as the grip on his shirt is now used as a steering wheel, pushing him towards the other 'jumper parked a hundred yards away. They can still hear the commotion of the rest of the marines stepping onto a 'jumper that floats in mid-air, but it grows fainter and fainter until there's only a whoosh of air that has no sound at all, drifting over them. "Oh, god, do you know how to push a shoulder back into its socket? I've heard it hurts, and frankly, it can't hurt more than it is now and just how _heavy_ is Anders? I always thought he was skinny, but clearly he's packing it on somewhere because the muscles feel all stretched out and really, I may have to see Keller because this is -- um. Ow?"

Sheppard relaxes his grip, but leaves his hand on Rodney's chest. "Stay," he says, breathing heavily. "Don't move."

"I'm not sure leaning against a wall is going to be good for my back after all the strain that was -- oh, _oh_. Okay."

Sheppard rolls his eyes but he doesn't stop sliding his mouth, pink and stretched and Jesus, _humming_ , around Rodney's cock, bobbing quickly enough that Rodney's already hurting neck aches in sympathy. Sheppard -- John -- is voracious, tongue sliding everywhere, teeth applying that perfect pressure as he gets faster and dirtier, inhaling like he can draw Rodney's orgasm out, like ice cream through a straw.

Unfortunately, Sheppard's ability to time his own breathing still sucks, so eventually he has to back off so he can pant against Rodney's thigh. His hand is tight around Rodney's cock, though, stroking hard and slow, guaranteed to make Rodney _insane_ without actually letting him come.

"Oh, god, _John -- "_

"You ran," he pants, voice whispery rough and sex-drenched; he sounds like a man who's given blow-jobs for a week and has loved every second of it. "You ran over a fucking _cliff_ , Rodney, you ran faster than me _or_ my men, so you could grab him and haul him and god, _hold_ him until we could get the 'jumper there."

Well. Put like that it is kind of heroic. It's not every day that astrophysicists flaunt their physical prowess.

"You're welcome?"

"Fuck," John breathes, and then he's back, hot and sloppy and frantic, hands sweaty as they burrow under Rodney's pants to cup and squeeze his ass and really, coming is almost an after-thought because the moan John makes at the first spurt creates more pleasure than the hardest, longest orgasm Rodney's ever had.

John sucks and licks him clean until it starts to hurt, then leans his head on Rodney's hip until they're both calmer. When he finally tips his face up, his ears are flushed. "Uh. So."

Rodney moves to cup the back of John's head, to run his fingers in the fringe at the back of John's neck the way he loves, maybe even say something snappy about risk and reward -- but by then he's _moved his arms_ and the pain washes his mind perfectly clean of everything except, "Oh, my god, _ow!"_

John chuckles, the bastard, hauling himself up to push Rodney into the co-pilot's seat. "I need to a take a quick detour and then we'll get you over to the infirmary," he says, soothing.

"What. Detour." He has _dislocated shoulders_ , there will be no detour!

"The detour to get me clean _pants_ ," Sheppard drawls, ears now a shockingly touchable shade of red. He squirms in his seat like a child, grinning guiltily when Rodney stares, open mouthed, at his quite obviously stained pants.

It's inappropriate, but Rodney can't stop himself from grinning. "I made you come without even touching you."

Sheppard scowls, eyes fond as he powers up the 'jumper. "Keep talking like that and it's going to be a _long_ detour. Or maybe I'll just drop you off."

He's starting to hurt a lot now, dull throbs that makes his vision swirl nauseatingly, but Rodney still manages to shake his head, leaning back in his chair with a soft moan. "No you won't."

Sheppard reaches across the way, carefully skimming his palm over Rodney's shoulder. It hurts, but only a little; the warmth of his touch feels surprisingly nice. "No, I won't."


End file.
